


There Was a Star Danced

by Draco_sollicitus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Misunderstandings, Much Ado About Nothing AU, Quibbles, Restarted fic, Romantic Comedy, fighting as flirting, shakespeare au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: Renata, niece of Luke, and Poe, friend of Don Solo, have been verbal combatants for years. They were friends as youths, but after Renata entered society, they entered into a battle of wits neither is willing to back down from. The true nature of their feelings for each other seems well understood by everyone other than themselves.While they fight, their friends Rose and Finn fall in love - but trouble is brewing in Messina.As misunderstandings and trickery abounds, all parties learn that there is great danger in making a fuss over nothing.





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beccaboom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccaboom/gifts).



> I am reposting this fic after I watched Much Ado About Nothing twice while on bed rest!!! Some changes have been made from the first posting of it, including lengthening the chapters (and shortening the chapter count - it'll be in five 'acts' and not 17 scenes), making Luke Leonato and not Leia, and after chapter one, we'll stray a bit more from the play's plot to make it more Star Wars-y. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Act in Three Scenes:
> 
> I.i: at the estate of Messina, during the arrival of Don Solo and his men  
> I.ii: A misunderstanding occurs at a party  
> I.iii: Don Ren reveals his evil intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Merry Players
> 
> Luke, Governor of Messina, widower
> 
> ROSE, His daughter
> 
> RENATA, His niece, and daughter of Lord Kenobi (deceased these sixteen years),
> 
> [Margaret and Ursula, waiting gentlewomen to Rose]
> 
> DON SOLO, Prince, Son to Han and Leia, Cousin to Renata and Rose
> 
> COUNT FINN, a young lord from Florence
> 
> SIGNIOR POE, a gentleman from Padua
> 
> DON REN, Don Solo’s brother, a bastard
> 
> ARMITAGE, Don Ren’s follower
> 
> PHASMA, Another of Ren’s followers
> 
>  
> 
> Leia, Queen Mother
> 
>  
> 
> CHEWBACA, Master Constable in Messina
> 
> Assorted Gentlemen and Women
> 
> JESSIKA
> 
> TEMMIN
> 
> KARE
> 
> IOLO

* * *

Renata, or Rey as she is known by her friends, runs along the side of her family’s manor, scurrying as she had spied an approaching messenger from the west.

“Dearest Luke,” she gasps, reaching her uncle, more of a father for having raised her the last sixteen years. “A messenger, from the battlefield.”

Luke looks up from braiding his daughter’s hair and squeezes Rose’s shoulders. “Let us go and greet him, girls.” They walk towards the front of the home, Rey pulling ahead at times like a racehorse, only held back by Rose, who holds her hand with a giggle.

When they reach the front of the estate, they find the exhausted messenger gratefully drinking the offered wine from one of the servants.

“Hail, good sir,” Luke says genially as they approach the man. “I hope you have good news?”

“Indeed, your Lordship,” the man bows deeply upon acknowledgment. “You may read this missive at your leisure.”

Luke takes the offered letter, and Rose takes Rey’s hand once more while they wait to hear of the fate of the soldiers.

“This says my nephew, and your cousin,” Luke nods at Rose and Rey, “Don Solo, will arrive here this afternoon.”

“Benjamin!” Rey cries delightedly. “I do hope he is in better spirits than when he last left us in April.”

“Perhaps if you had not taken such pleasure in besting the fair prince in fencing, his mood would have been much improved,” Rose says mildly, and Rey wrinkles her nose at her cousin.

“A fair prince he is not, not if he can scowl so freely at having been defeated by a woman,” Rey returns.

Luke rolls his eyes, and then rolls the letter he reads, to smack Rey on top of her head. “It had much less to do with you being a woman, Renata, and far more to do with the rhyme you invented to glory in your victory.”

“Ah yes,” Rey smiles fondly while remembering that day. “For what need do we have for luck/when as sure as hens do cluck/Ben picks up his sword/And lacks the strength of his words/And having been beaten, he doth scream fu—”

“That is quite enough of such poetry, Renata,” Luke chides her while Rose erupts into giggles. The messenger looks like he struggles to choose between laughing or fainting in shock. “As the letter states, Don Solo will arrive today, and we must prepare. Were many lost in the battle with the First Order today, sire?”

“No, Your Grace,” the messenger bows again. “Don Solo’s men were quite victorious; no lives were lost that could be missed.”

“And the letter says that the highest honors were bestowed upon a youth from Florence, named Finn?” Luke looks up from the letter to study the messenger. “And what kind of man is this Count Finn?”

“He looks like a lamb, my lord, but fights rather more like a lion,” the messenger smiles peacefully. “Finn is a youth, not even three and twenty, but today he fought as though he were a hundred seasoned soldiers. He shall accompany Don Solo for the time being as his special guest, in honor of his bravery.”

“Thank you, sire, for the information,” Luke says.

“Will that be all, Lord Luke?”

“Could you tell me something?” Rey breaks in, and Rose tugs her sleeve warningly. “Please, tell me has Signior Saber made it through the battle safely?”

“I know none by that name, Lady Renata,” the messenger says uneasily.

“Yes, pray tell niece, who is this Signior Saber?”

“She means Signior Dameron, of Padua,” Rose sets her mouth in an undignified pout. “She refers to their frequent battles, both of saber and wit.”

“Oh! Signior Poe!” The messenger looks delighted. Rey, less so. “He _has_ made it through safely, my lady, and he accompanies Don Solo this very night! I daresay you will find his temper as agreeable as ever, and I daresay he will find your concern for him most comforting.”

“That is all well and good,” Rey says primly. “But the man is as agreeable as the backend of a bull, good sir. There is no need to call us to impugn your good sense and reputation as an honest person in an attempt to bolster the confidence of a man who is not even here, especially a man whose confidence needs no such support. But, tell me – did he kill many men in this battle? I did promise him that I would eat whomever he killed. Unless you are to tell me that he ate his men already?”

The messenger shuffles his feet, looking deeply uncomfortable, while Luke leans over to pinch Rey playfully on the arm.

“Niece, you would do well to watch your tongue with Signior Poe,” Luke whispers. “For all the years I’ve known you, he is the only match I could conceive of, for your temper, and the only person who is as determined as you to settle his scores.” Rey steadfastly ignores her uncle with a toss of her thick hair.

“Signior Poe did his duty well, ma’am,” the messenger remembers how to speak now, recovered from the shock of Renata’s playfulness. “He followed and protected  the prince despite the constant threat of death.”

“I’m sure he did,” Rey nods, graciously. “For what else could we expect from such a good eater?”

“A good soldier too, lady.” The messenger still looks desperate to flee the scene.

“A good soldier to a lady? Well, if we are to categorize him and his accomplishments as a _man_ , when compared to other men, then how would we classify him? What could he be to a lord, for instance?”

“He would be a lord to a lord, and a man to a man, Lady Rey,” Rose breaks in. “We often comment here at Alderaan that Signior Poe is simply stuffed with virtue.” She smiles sweetly at the messenger, who blushes and bows at her largesse and beauty.

Rey, being blessed with neither such grace nor generosity, snorts with derision. “He is stuffed, but with what, I could not tell you. Perhaps stuffed like a great goose at a feast? Or perhaps a dummy being knocked about with sticks by children?”

“Don’t listen to my niece,” Luke tells the messenger. “She and Signior Poe have been engaged in battle since she was old enough to attend balls. Every meeting is a skirmish, and this war continues to tax their friends and family.”

“A war?” Rey tilts her head to the side and smiles. “I wonder what the terms of surrender will be, when I finally get the enemy to admit defeat in the face of my prowess?”

“I think you will find him to be a most willing adversary,” Luke smirks, “And most willing to surrender to you.” But, Rey pays him no heed.

‘Tell me,” Rey leans back with her arms crossed over her middle and grins at Rose. “Does Signior Poe have a new friend?”

“He had been traveling with the young Finn, the one who caught the favor of Don Solo,” the messenger informs her.

Rey laughs and claps her hands at this information. “Why would that be a significant enough event to induce laughter in yourself, dear niece?” Luke asks, already hiding a smile.

“Because,” Rey gets up and spins in a circle around Rose before taking her hands and spinning her cousin with her. “Signior Poe is more changeable than the moon. He is the least constant man I’ve ever met; he changes his mind and his friends with the same speed a person should change their linens. I do wish this Finn good luck, for _The Signior Poe_ is much like an unshakeable disease that does not quit your presence until it has drained you of all joy, liveliness, and money! This friendship may prove fatal yet for the good count.” She clutches at her neck with both hands and chokes slightly, making a horrid face, and Rose barely stifles a giggle behind her hand.

“I will make careful note to not find myself in your ill favor, lady.” The messenger smiles despite the impropriety of Rey’s performance.

“I’m sure we will find no reason to be cross with each other.” Rey smiles kindly at the messenger, who begins to take his leave, bowing to the ladies.

While he walks towards the stables, Luke sighs at his wild niece. “I suppose you will never find your passionate hatred for the gentleman turned to affection, dear one?”

“No, no,” Rey laughs lightly. “I have ever too much fun tormenting the man. You’ll see snow in July before you hear me coo at Signior Poe.”

Rose links arms with her cousin, already shaking her head in disagreement; but, before she can soundly chastise her, there is the sound of approaching trumpets, and thundering horses.

“Don Solo is here already!” a servant shouts from a distance - and the riding party comes into view.

Don Solo rides, flanked by his men, all of strong body and mind. His tall figure handles the task of riding easily, and to his left is a dark-skinned man with a broad smile, incredibly handsome and with all the appearance of an easygoing nature. Signior Poe Dameron, the greatest horseback rider in the country, rides in the front, laughing gaily at some unknown joke or event; it seems most likely that the simple task of riding has him in high spirits.

Rose smooths her skirts out and stands to the side with Luke, but Rey rushes forward excitedly to the edge of the lane and waits on her toes, leaning forward into the road with an arch smile upon her lovely, freckled face - it goes unnoticed by her uncle, who also notes how Signior Poe’s eyes directly go to Rey’s face, and how his own smile falters nervously at the sight of her.

In her eagerness to view the approaching gentlemen, Rey almost falls into the lane, and Luke snorts and nudges his daughter.

“If you are run over by a horse, dear niece, I shall have to surrender in your name to Signior Poe,” Luke calls behind her, but the admonishment is lost over the sound of the hooves.

The gentlemen pull up their horses and dismount quickly. Signior Poe claps hands with the handsome man with dark skin – the famous Finn, Rey notes to herself quietly – but Don Solo jumps down from his horse and scoops Rey up before she can engage Poe in conversation. His bastard brother, Don Ren, sulks in the back briefly before storming away from the party altogether.

“Coz!” Ben shouts, happily. “The fiercest swordfighter in the land!” Rey laughs at his spirits, her own much lifted by them. He sets her down with a fond kiss to the top of her head.

“And my dear uncle,” he says, sweeping forward to embrace Luke and kiss his cheeks. “Thank you for agreeing to host my men on your land at such short notice. I hope you shall find my friends to be suitable guests in the grand house. You are a brave man indeed, to put up with us.”

“It is my pleasure,” Luke says warmly, cupping his whiskered cheek. “When you leave, you take the light from this house.”

“What a comforting statement to your daughters, Your Grace,” Rey teases him, and Rose giggles behind her hand once more. The afternoon sunlight falls through the grove they stand in, the bower that houses the lane before the estate opens up towards the house, and catches upon Rose’s dark hair. She is uncommonly pretty, and she looks particularly wonderful today in a dress of yellow, Rey notes with no small level of contentment. “You forget that Rose is the brightest light of any estate - no offense given to the prince, of course.”

“None taken,” Don Solo bows at her, and Rey returns the gesture cheerfully, bowing at the waist the way a man would. Ben laughs once more at the sight, and then grabs Luke by the arm, pulling him away to discuss the matters of housing.

“The lady Rose does look well,” Poe says, after a strange pause.

“I wonder that you speak, Signior Poe, when none have asked for your opinion.” Rey arches her brow at him.

“Ah!” Poe clutches his heart and pretends to stagger, barely hiding a smile from his full mouth. “Lady Disdain. You’re not dead yet?”

“Disdain could never die, not when you still take breath,” Rey returns haughtily. “Such food you give it, after all. Grace itself will always convert to Disdain, if you insist on standing before her.”

“The Lady Grace is a traitor indeed. It is a shame that you, Lady Grace, do find me so abhorrent. Most ladies,”-  he winks at Rose, who does not change her expression in the least, obviously fighting to remain stoic - “find me to be more than suitable, and treat me with far less disdain. Not that it matters, when my heart has never known love.”

Rey flinches almost imperceptibly at the comment, and Poe looks regretful for a second; but then, Rey stiffens and sneers at him.

“And thank God above for that,” she counters. “Imagine the affliction you would set upon the countryside if you set yourself out to be a determined suitor. I imagine all the ladies of Messina would have sported a new fashion of cutting their ears off, just to escape your voice spewing words of love. And as for me, I am glad that you and I share in this refusal to seek affection.”

“What does my sister mean?” Rose asks, curiously.

“I mean, dearest, I would rather hear my dog, Bartleby, bark at a crow than hear a man swear he loves me.” Poe’s jaw sets uncomfortably at her declaration, but she’s already turned away from him, her attention on Rose in the moment.

“God keep the lady Renata in that mind, so any future love of hers can spare himself a scratched face or a blackened eye,” Poe slaps Finn on the shoulder, Finn who has yet to tear his eyes away from Rose’s face. Rey would comment on it, were she not otherwise engaged.

“I think a blackened eye would rather improve your countenance, Signior Dameron,” Rey says.

Poe’s face turns a bright shade of red. “Well, aren’t you something, trying to teach me to respond to you the way a child or a parrot would - immediately, without real thought or virtue.”

“A bird with my tongue is better than a beast with yours,” she sniffs.

“Lord in Heaven, I wish my horse’s feet had the speed of your tongue.” Rey opens her mouth to argue with him, but he holds a weary hand up. “But, peace, I am done for now,” Poe sighs heavily and begins to walk away, towards Ben and Luke.

“Yes, run away,” Rey calls after him. “You always did like to turn tail. I know you well, Signior Dameron.”

Poe turns around, redder than before, and opens his mouth, but Luke and Don Solo return from their discussion, and he swallows whatever insult he meant to exchange with Rey. She smirks at him, and then turns innocent eyes and a sweet smile upon her adopted father and her cousin.

“Well, that’s that!” Ben roars, smiling down at his uncle. “The Lord Luke has agreed to let us stay here for a month. It will be particularly wonderful, as my brother and I can grow to be friends once more, and we celebrate new friends, like the good Finn, and old, like the honorable Poe.”

“Oh, lucky us,” Rey mutters to Rose, who does not return her glance. She is staring at Finn – Finn stares back at Rose, and Rey looks between them, delighted even in the face of her disgust that she will now have to deal with Signior Poe for weeks on end.

At this point, Don Ren has re-emerged from whatever shadows he was hiding in, and he walks in to Alderaan with the majority of the party, after quietly thanking Luke for allowing him to stay. Rey and Rose trail behind, and at the last second before the doors close, Ren turns around to offer his arm to Renata, who takes it with an expression of great confusion. The motion does not go unnoticed by Poe, who scowls fiercely and forces himself to look away.

Finn and Poe remain outside, the former with a particularly lovestruck expression on his face, and the latter examining dirt under his fingernails.

“Poe,” Finn breathes. His friend does not look up from his examination, his jaw clenched tightly. “Did you see her?”

“She’s just as terrifying as ever,” Poe answers mildly, moving on to another fingernail. “But yes, I did see her. I must say, my spirits weren’t this high mid-battle. Fighting with her feels ever more like home.”

“What?” Finn looks at him, confused. “No, I meant, did you see Luke’s daughter?”

“Yes,” Poe allows, refusing to blush at his accidental admission. “Rose. I did see her too.”

“Right.” Finn squints at him, but then sighs once more. “Is she not a lady of extreme virtue?”

“Do you want me to speak as a good man, or as myself, an accused cad and hater of the fairer sex?” Poe asks, smiling at him.

“Speak with your best mind, Poe,” Finn says, rolling his eyes.

“I think she is a little too short to be called high, a little too sweet to be called mild, a little too thin to be called much. She would be ugly if she looked different, but as it is, she is none but herself, and therefore I do not like her.”

“I’m not kidding, Poe,” Finn sighs. “Be serious for once. I quite liked her. Do you think that silly?”

Poe smiles at him with more warmth and less mirth. He claps him on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’re thinking of investing in such a fair item, then? You’d like to own her and set her amongst all your jewels?”

“Could one truly own a jewel as fair as she?” Finn contemplates, while the men begin to move to the front doors of Alderaan.

“Dear God, I think you might actually be touched,” Poe laughs. “If you are not in jest, please tell me – if you need me to sing along with you, I should need to know the key.”

“She is the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s hard to say that with her cousin next to her; if Rey had less of a temper, you wouldn’t even be able to look at Rose next to her and declare her the beauty.” Finn smirks at Poe, who ignores his friend’s accusing glance. “And if you sigh any more, Finn, I shall have to call the doctor. God forbid, I think I may have to call the priest, so he can perform Last Rites. What has gotten into men of our age, that they think they must settle down and find a wife – we only cheat on them as we grow old, and they grow bored of us.” He runs a hand through his luxurious curls, a strange frown on his full lips. “I, for one, shall never marry.”

“But I shall,” Finn reminds him. “And I should like to marry Rose.”

“That is rather fast,” Poe comments idly. “The woman longest in my acquaintance hates me as though I were the devil himself. Perhaps you should give it some time, and see if the fair Rose grows to hate you in a similar fashion.”

Don Solo emerges from the house and bounds down the steps. “What keeps you two outside? Some secret mutiny against me?”

“No,” Finn assures him, still unsure of how to address the prince, even in the face of his constant approval and support.

Poe has no such qualms, having known Benjamin Solo since the cradle. “Aye, Benjamin. Finn here intends to forsake us for the solemn condemnation of matrimony.”

“You don’t say!” Don Solo beams at the count.

“That is quite the opposite reaction to what I was hoping for,” Poe grumbles.

“Who has caught your eye?” Don Solo uses his massive hand to clap over Poe’s mouth, taking full advantage of the almost-foot difference in their heights while Poe scowls up at the large prince, completely unbothered by the impropriety of such an expression.

“The lady Rose,” Finn smiles at him. “I should like to marry her.”

“And I should like to see you married,” Don Solo says graciously. “I shall do everything in my power to see it done!”

“I thank you, sir,” Finn bows to him, and Ben lifts his hand away from Poe’s mouth to gesture that the bow is unnecessary. Poe swats at Ben’s departing hand angrily, like a stirred hornet.

“Is no one going to listen to me?” he demands. “It is all about matrimony, but we know better than any, that as soldiers our lives are unknowable. Why marry someone just to leave them? Why abandon our wives for months on end, encouraging them to cheat on us, or leave us, or hate us? Women are sensitive, and powerful, and terrifying, and I don’t think you two romantic fools realize that. I, for one, will never marry because I do not wish to disrespect a woman by mistrusting her or doubting her or hurting her by some complete accident – so, I’ll just avoid them all, and die alone.”

“A long speech,” Ben says. “And a speech unasked for. I swear on all the stars, Poe, I’ll see you married yet.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time. I’d rather face the torturer’s rack than deal with the agony of love,” Poe swears while the other two men exchange a knowing look, having seen his interaction with Renata.

“We shall see. Well, now I have my mission, and a place to be. You two should go in to dinner, Finn to his lady love, and Poe to – I don’t know, your wine? Something?” Don Solo throws his hands in the air. “I still believe I’ll see you in love someday, and I’ll remind you of your passionate words then.”

“Please do,” Poe nods. “And please write them on a sign and hang them around my corpse after you run me through on your sword, for that would be a better outcome than marriage.”

He walks inside without further preamble, leaving Finn and Ben alone outside.

“What a dramatic fool,” Ben sighs. “But, do not take him too seriously at his word, Finn. Your friendship is new yet, so you do not know of his story. His parents were passionately in love, but his father was wounded in battle and believed dead. It sickened his mother to think of her husband gone from her life, and she died tragically while waiting for news. Kes Dameron returned to find his wife dead, and his ten year old son grieving. So, he sounds angry, but really, I believe he mourns.” Ben cocks his head and hums thoughtfully. “I believe he mourns the loss of something else as well, but that tale is certainly best reserved for the future, for it is one that he himself has yet to admit aloud.”

“I did not know that.” Finn frowns up at the stairs and then over at Ben. “All the same, I think my experience with war has caused me to appreciate the beauty of a young woman like Rose even more. She and I have not yet even spoken, but there is something in her countenance – her soul even, if I am allowed to be so romantic, as Poe accused me of being – that tells me she and I would be well-suited for each other. I have seen enough of war, and where there was once battle plans and rage in my head, there is now a cavernous emptiness that begs to be filled with thoughts of love: gentle, tender thoughts.”

“Hear, hear,” Ben claps him on the shoulder and smiles. “An admirable declaration, Sir Finn. I do hope your company wears down Dameron’s own stubbornness. But, to address your desire for matrimony – tonight is a costume ball, thrown in honor of our success in battle. Luke is putting on the revelry, and we shall use my knowledge of Rose’s preferences and her spirits to woo her – I shall pretend to be you, and you shall pretend to be me, under the masks and uniforms of our choice, and with pretty words I’ll convince Rose to love you. After that, as myself, I will convince Luke to let his daughter go, and you shall be betrothed, given Rose’s own permission.”

They shake hands, Finn beaming excitedly, and walk up the stairs to join their friends at dinner.

### ***

Signora Wexley approaches Lord Luke an hour after supper while the guests mill about and prepare for the ball.

“Your Grace,” she bows deeply and smiles at him. “I have some good news for you.”

“Oh really, Kare?” Luke smiles at her and nods his head to a farther corner of the garden. “Come tell me in private.”

They walk to the opposite wall, away from the guests, and Kare gives a surreptitious glance over her shoulder before turning to Luke once more.

“My trusted servant overheard a conversation between Count Finn and Don Solo,” she whispers. “A conversation regarding your dear Rose.”

“My Rose?” Luke lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “My daughter, the short one, over there?”

“Yes, they discussed at length her beauty and many virtues,” Kare smiles, happy to be providing information to a wise and respected man.

“Well, that is a natural conversation, for Rose is wealthy in both.” Luke gives his young friend an odd look. “But why the secrecy in telling me this? I do not wish to sound prideful, but many comment on Rose’s beauty.”

“I tell you because Don Solo was overheard speaking of his passionate love for her,” Kare explains excitedly. “He means to woo her tonight at the ball, and convince her to accept his offer.”

Luke puts a hand to his jaw, truly shocked. “The prince? My nephew wishes to propose to my daughter?” He frowns. “He has so rarely spoken to her. He certainly has never been unkind to her, not since my late wife and I adopted her twelve years ago, but he also has not shown any particular regard for her, either. I always rather thought he preferred Renata. But, I never thought he would act on that, knowing that her interests most likely lay elsewhere.”

He looks back over to the side of the house, where Renata is engaged in a hearty argument with Signior Poe. They squabble to the point where others are backing away from them. To Luke’s intense amusement, they storm towards the doors of Alderaan, and Poe lurches forward to hold the door open for her; Rey continues to jab her finger at him, clearly mid-assertion, and Poe rolls his eyes but waits for her to enter before he follows, his hands now in the air as he begins to outline his side of things. The door shuts behind them, and the collected assembly seems to breathe more easily.

“Well, he means to make love to Rose, now,” Kare says, her brow also marked by her amusement of Rey and Poe’s scene. “Would you like me to call the servant for you, so you can ask him yourself?”

“No, no,” Luke waves a hand dismissively. “Men are fickle, Kare, and we should wait for it to become reality before we accept it as anything but a dream. If Ben proposes to Rose, we’ll know then that the rumor is true. Until then, I should go and speak to Rose, so she can be prepared if he does make her an offer.” Luke huffs, happily and smiles widely at the friends gathered on his grounds. “My darling girl, a princess.” He  sighs, and he and Kare return to the party.

While he calls Rose to his side, he lifts his eyes up to the second floor of Alderaan, where a window is thrown open.

Rey and Poe stand in the window, the dying sun catching on her hair. Rey stares towards the horizon, gesticulating wildly while she loudly dismisses Poe’s interest in investing in a vineyard fifteen leagues to the south (she says, _“Don’t you think that would be rather expected of you at this point? Honestly, Signior, I wonder at you ever being sober at all, when it is us who should be drinking to deal with_ you _?”_ ) but Luke has more interest in the way Poe leans against the sill, his weight borne on his elbows while he stares up at Rey with nothing short of hopeful wonder on his face.  

***

Don Ren waits until he is alone in his rooms before he grabs a rapier and begins to slash at the tapestry upon the wall.

He screams his frustrations out – he had been so close to destroying Ben, that weakling, that fool – but somehow he had escaped him, for some reason he was able to elude certain death upon the battlefield.

No. Ren knows the reason.

The count with the face of a child, Finn, had been unable to stay out of the way and let the hired soldiers do their job. He had caught wind of the spies in the camp, had slain the traitors where they stood before they could drive their knife true, into the flesh of Don Solo, that foul man.

“Why should he be allowed to be king, and not I,” Ren raves to himself, tearing at his hair. He throws his rapier across the room, and scowls at his reflection in the mirror, the nasty scar that lines half of it. “Because of his parents. Namely, his mother – were my own mother lucky enough to have caught more than just the eye of the king, I would be the one preparing to sit on the throne.” Overcome once more with rage, he kicks a chamber pot, and howls through the pain that shoots through his foot.

A light knock sounds on the door.

“My lord Ren,” Armitage walks in without waiting for permission, and Ren resists the urge to throw him through the window so he can have the satisfaction of watching the red-haired man plummet to his death. “Are you so excessively sad that you cannot contain yourself for mere minutes?”

“Sad?” Ren roars. A look from Hux encourages him to lower his voice. “Sad? I am not sad. I am enraged.”

“Yes. Quite the difference, there.” Hux sneers at him.

“The causes for my anger are without limit, so my anger is without limit,” Ren begins to pace. “If only my father was not so accustomed to tradition, if only he did not care for public opinion, if only he had married my mother, and not the mother of that pathetic wretch, Benjamin – there would be no cause for my anger, and you would not accuse me of sadness.”

“If you would only hear reason –”

Ren cuts his friend off with a slash of the hand. “Reason? What good does reason do me? Do I win a prize of some sort, for sitting here and listening to you mope and whine about reason?”

Armitage appears to bite his tongue in half. “Perhaps,” he grits out. “You will settle for being soothed, if not healed. If you could just find it in yourself to listen to me.”

“Someone as miserable as you, lecturing me about my attitude? What a ridiculous concept, Armitage,”  Ren snorts derisively. “As a bastard, I enjoy the knowledge that I follow my own path. I do not need to laugh unless I am happy; I do not need to shed a tear unless I am sad. The only game I must play is the one of my own making. So, if I am angry tonight, I will show it, and your words of caution be damned.” Ren throws a vase against a wall to punctuate his rage, and Armitage’s expression does not waver.

“Yes, but if you could hold off on the full performance,” he suggests, coldly. “You only just were allowed back into Benjamin’s life, after you tried to take the throne from him four years ago. Four years we have waited for an audience, and you are lucky his heart grows weak with fondness for the Lord Luke Skywalker and his children, your honorable and beautiful cousins.”

Ren snorts and looks out the window. He does not comment on Armitage’s description of the daughter and niece of Luke. Rose is nothing to him, a weak child. But Renata.

Ah, Renata. His brother’s own feelings for her in youth had been a complication, but when she made it clear she did not wish to marry him, Benjamin had cheerfully moved on, and Ren felt less challenged in his desire to pursue her. After his subsequent banishment from the prince’s side, he had lost contact with her; now at the age of two and twenty, she is even more a ravishing beauty than she was then, her wit and intellect unmatched, her temper well suited for his own.

But now, her attention drifts to another. A foolish man, whose undeniable skill on a horse and with a blade are badly matched with an ill temper – hot, where it should be cold – and a proclivity to drinking heavily. Signior Poe Dameron continues to be an issue, even though he had so promisingly insulted Renata years prior, driving a wedge between them.

Armitage waits for him, so he waves a hand. “If I must control my temper, you must give me a reason. You insist that I might have an opportunity to soothe my rage. So, tell me.”

“It appears you have an opportunity to cause mischief, not only in the life of Benjamin, but also his favored friend.”

“The good count Finn?” Ren lifts an eyebrow.

“The very same. A desired match between Finn and Rose arises, and Don Solo has agreed to put himself in the middle, to intercede for his friend, and to convince Luke, your uncle, to approve of the union.”

“When shall this unhappy event occur?” Ren demands.

“Tonight, at the ball. We could easily interfere, my lord,” Armitage smiles at him, or at least shows his teeth. “And, the added bonus – the lady Renata will be in attendance.”

“I’m listening.” Ren sits on a chair, and Armitage smiles, happy to have gained the attention – the patient attention – of Don Ren at last.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act II will hopefully post soon! thanks for sticking with this fic, y'all


	2. Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> II.i: A masquerade where feelings are hurt and old wounds resurface, but one couple is united
> 
>  
> 
> II.ii: Ren's evil plan shifts 
> 
> II.iii: A scene in the gardens - Signior Dameron overhears a conversation not intended for his ears (or ... was it intended?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!! Act II!

As they prepare for the party, Rose and Rey make idle conversation while fixing ornaments to their dresses. Rey finds the right moment to whisper hints about the “sweet count” into Rose’s ear, who only blushes harder and giggles. This does not go unnoticed by the ladies Jessika and Kare, who nudge each other and snort in unladylike fashion, both sipping wine while attending to the prize jewels of Messina.

While the party will be a masquerade, only the men will wear masks tonight; the ladies find that the act of putting on dresses and fixing their hair to be just-so counts as well as any disguise. Rey is thankful for it, as she finds the dresses themselves to be cumbersome enough. Add in the mischief of a mask, and she’d end up tripping around the dance floor all night (something she demonstrates for her friends with a pillowcase in front of her face, swirling and stumbling around the room as they howl with laughter).

Luke wanders in right as Rey collapses, laughing, on the bed she has shared with Rose intermittently for a year. “What do you find so humorous, niece?”

“Nothing, uncle, except for myself.” Rey props herself up on her elbows, still giggling. “And am I not a fine jest?”

“The finest, I’m sure.” He picks up a hairbrush and gestures to Rose, who settles down in front of him with a pleased smile. He begins to plait his daughter’s hair while humming to himself. And then: “Don Ren was most invested in dinner,” Luke comments idly. He gives Rey a look that goes most certainly missed. “I have not seen him talk, ever, before tonight.”

“He said but ten words to me, sir,” Rey says examining her hairbrush but not using it. “Hardly a flood.”

“Yes, but compared to his typical desert, ‘twas a veritable downpour,” Rose points out, smiling at her cousin in the mirror. “Ren is so usually a melancholy man, for one so handsome.”

“If only there were a man halfway between him and Poe,” Rey sighs, crossing the room to stare out the window at the grounds, watching guests arrive, masked and unmasked. “For one is almost like a painting of some Greek God, or statue – and the other is ever so much like a toddler, testing out new words and phrases whenever they pop into his merry little head.”

“If only you could put Poe’s wit in Ren’s head,” Luke smirks at his niece. “I imagine he’d win even you over, Renata.”

“No, she’s too cross for that,” Rose teases, standing up and kissing Rey on the cheek, her hair half-braided. Rey holds her cousin by the shoulders, smiling warmly, accepting the jest. “Far too cross.”

“Isn’t that a saying?” Rey asks in mock-earnest. “That God sends all cross heifers short horns? But to a cow too cross, he sends none.” She props her pointer fingers up on her head and waggles them at Rose.

“So God will send you no horns, then?” Luke asks, archly.

“I pray for that much every day and night,” Rey says, picking up a shawl and draping it around her head like a nun’s wimple. “As for now: I could not endure a husband with a beard – I’d as sooner cloak myself all in untamed wool.”

“So you should get a husband with no beard,” Luke suggests, and Rose giggles. “Don Solo is without beard, as is his brother. And the fine Count Finn.” Rose stops giggling and turns pink, turning away from her father lest he take note.

“And what would I do with him, dear uncle? A man with no beard? Share my skirts with him and train him to be a serving woman? If he has a beard, he is no longer a child, and if he does not have a beard, he is not a man; and he that is  _ more _ than a child is not for me, and he that is  _ not _ quite a man – well, I am not for him. So, I’ll die alone, and lead bachelors to hell.”

“Does that mean you go to Hell as well, darling Rey?” Rose asks lightly, still smiling.

“No, no,” Rey waves a hand dismissively. “The Devil himself will greet me at the gate and say, ‘Now Rey, Hell is no place for a virgin,’ and then I’ll have to drop off my coterie of bachelors with him. And I’ll walk up to Saint Peter all by myself, where he’ll show me where the good-hearted bachelors wait, and then I’ll be happy the rest of time.” She ends with a bawdy wink and earns herself a pinch on the ear from Luke for her cheek. 

“Let’s go downstairs and greet the guests, girls,” Luke says, walking for the door. “And Rose, remember what I told you about the Prince – if he makes you an offer, be prepared to give him an answer. I’ll support you either way.”

“Yes, papa.”

He catches Rey by the elbow as she moves to follow her cousin, and she looks at him with great surprise. He lowers his voice to speak to her. “I did not mean to discuss Ren in jest tonight, dear one. He is...tempestuous, but you are the only person here he smiles at.”

“I do not ask for his smiles, uncle.”

“I know you do not, my love.” Luke sighs and pats her shoulder comfortingly. “Perhaps you should stay close to Jessika or Kare tonight.”

“No, no,” Rey laughs lightly, patting her uncle right back. “I’ll not be frightened by Ren, no matter how cross he is, or how terrifying his smiles.”

Music erupts from the back of the estate, and she nods towards it. “That is our cue, uncle.”

“It is indeed.” He offers her his arm, and when they pass Rose in the hallway, she takes his other arm; the family walks towards the party, and, Rey hopes, towards a most excellent night.

***

At the party, the masked prince quickly whisks Rose away, and Rey is soon selected by a gentleman in a moon-shaped mask.

“Will the sun dance with the moon?” He asks, voice in a forced, graveled accent.

Rey smirks, knowing that voice anywhere, regardless of its disguise - currently, an absurd accent.

“Why say you that  I am the sun?” Rey asks, taking his hand and beginning to waltz with him in the midst of the party. “Why am I not a tree, or the earth?”

“Because, my lady,” the man still carries on in the ridiculous accent, and Rey fights the urge to laugh. “I heard that you blind men as well as you inspire them.”

“Is that so?” Rey asks, smile dropping, her spine stiffening even against the palm of his broad hand.

“Aye,” the man continues, seemingly not seeing her expression change through his own ridiculous mask. “I heard that you are better known as  _ Lady Disdain, _ and that you got your jokes from a book.”

“And who told you this?” Rey’s voice is sharp, but still, it goes unnoticed in the crisp air of evening. “Good sir.”

“Forgive me, but I cannot say.” The man bows in the middle of the dance, releasing her for a moment, and Rey scowls, apparently well-set in her intention to have her fill, now.

“Will you tell me who you are, then?” Rey says through gritted teeth.

“No, ma’am, not now, not before the stroke of midnight,” he bobs his head in faux-regret.

“Fine. If you shall not play, I shall say that I know who said such things of me, whether or not you bother to confirm it. That I am disdainful, and my humor unoriginal- it was Signior Poe who told you so, yes?”

“What’s he?” The man asks, playing innocent, his eyelashes batting away under his mask.

Rey smiles, and the expression is full of acid. “I’m sure you know him, sir.”

“No, I swear it,” his eyes twinkle behind the mask, but Rey is no longer having fun. Her heart hurts too much, and if the man looked for more than a second, he would see it. But instead, his eyes flit around the ball, a smile playing at his lips, as his heart remains as light as ever.

“He has never made you laugh, then?”

“No,” The man smiles grandly behind the mask, the stubble accenting his jaw, his strong nose evident even with the moon over his brow. “No, he does not induce me to laughter.”

“Nor I, I’m sure,” Rey snaps. “He is the Prince’s jester, you see, a very boring man who is dedicated to leaving scores of hurt women in his wake. No one of any value laughs at his jokes, and he cannot be congratulated for his humor, but perhaps he can be commended for how bad of a person he can be, how easily he can hurt people in his villainy – for there is none so quick with a retort or a cruel prank than Signior Poe.”

The man looks taken aback, and he has to clear his throat before responding. His hands are somewhat looser on her waist now. “When I meet him, I’ll let him know what you think of him.”

The music comes to a stop. “Do,” Rey says coldly, stepping away from the man. Her hands curl into fists as she scowls at him, and he looks taken aback. “Do.”

She walks away after that, not pausing even when she wipes tears out of her eyes.

Across the grounds, Finn waits eagerly at the edge of an arbor where Ben and Rose discuss her freedom to marry. She laughs, wildly, when Ben says something, and Finn smiles in excitement.

Then, Don Ren appears at his shoulder. “Poe?” he whispers. “Is that you? I cannot see in the dark.”

Finn checks his mask and answers in an accent deepened, “Yes, ‘tis I! Signior Poe.”

Don Ren rolls his eyes. “Yes. Well, I must tell you of my brother’s ridiculous plan. He woes the Lady Rose, you see, and she is below his station. I need you to discourage him, Poe, no matter how much he claims to love her.”

“He loves her?” Finn asks, suddenly sweating. “What?”

“Yes,” Don Ren smirks, his quarry having taken the bait. “I heard him swear his love for her aloud the other day. He said that he would marry her, tonight!”

Don Ren pretends to look over his shoulder. “Bah, my men call me. I will see you back at the banquet. Think of what I had said.” He sweeps back towards the main party, grinning to himself in pleasure. The smile widens when he sees Lady Renata running off to the grove of trees by herself, dashing tears out of her eyes – fifty feet away, Signior Poe rips a mask that resembles a moon off his face and kicks a tree, muttering to himself.

“Ha,” he laughs to himself, hands in pockets. “I did not even have to act to split those two – they’re well enough opposed by themselves.” He sweeps into the darkness, intending on following his quarry and offering comfort to her.

Finn stands, shaken, watching Rose embrace Ben happily.

“I was tricked,” he whispers. “Don Solo keeps the lady Rose for himself. Everyone should think and do things for himself, and trust no one, no eye, no mouth but his own to finish a task, for all men work for themselves. There is no such thing as trust or friendship. Goodbye, sweet Rose.” He sighs mightily, and reflects inwardly, missing Don Solo returning to the party, Rose standing by herself, smiling at the sky. He only turns when Poe comes crashing towards him.

“Finn,” Poe demands. “Finn, is it over?”

“Yes,” Finn nods, heavily. “Yes, and Don Solo keeps the lady for himself.”

“What? I did not think he could do something like that,” Poe says looking unsure. “That does not sound like the prince. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Finn nods. “Please, I must – I want to be by myself.” The prince approaches, and Finn makes a hasty retreat away from the party.

“Hail, Signior Poe,” Ben smiles at him. “I heard you had a quarrel with the Lady Renata even when you were masked. She said that a man dressed like the moon passed on your mockeries, and that she had no choice but to defend herself.”

“That was me,” Poe groans. “She hates me, Ben, and finds fault with what I say when she does not even know that it is I who stands before her.”

Ben gives him an amused look, the point of which Poe entirely misses. He sighs again, much like a maid at her window, and continues.

“Tell me, Ben, am I much changed from when we were youths?”

“Yes,” Ben nods and smiles at him easily. “I suppose you are taller. Slightly.”

“No, I mean,” Poe shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest while he scowls at the ground thoughtfully. “Renata did not hate me so much when we were younger. What changed?”

“You began to find fault in the little signora every time she opened her mouth, Poe,” Ben reminds him. “You cannot blame the girl for learning to strike first. Every viper when cornered remembers its fangs.”

“Surely  _ you  _ of all people cannot blame me for speaking to her so, Solo,” Poe heaves a sigh and weighs his mask in his hand. “You remember how it was your courtship of the Lady Rey that killed mine so quickly, and killed the heart that beats in my chest as well.”

“My courtship?” Don Solo looks at him oddly. “Poe, pray, explain yourself.”

“Four years ago, when I was but twenty-two, and she was eighteen, I declared my love for her,” Poe explains. “And I thought she returned it, but when I overheard you courting her, I dropped my suit, and pursued others.”

“My courtship of Lady Rey lasted but a half hour conversation,” Don Solo tells Poe carefully, who suddenly looks very pale. “She told me, under no uncertain terms, that she had only ever viewed me as a brother. Surely you did not think we continued on for any amount of time. I declared, she rejected, we remained friends and returned to the whist table not an hour later, where she wiped my coin purse clean with great cheer.”

Poe opens his mouth to say something, but coughs, suddenly. “You – you did not court her?”

“No,” Ben shakes his head, astounded. “Why? Did that discourage you from pursuing her, truly? In private, her uncle has spoken to my mother at length about a heartbreak Rey suffered when she was but eighteen years old, and even now, he claims it to be the reason for her refusing suitors.”

“I…” Poe trails off and wets his bottom lip, looking thoroughly shaken.

Don Solo looks over Poe’s shoulder and taps him lightly. “If you do not wish for the Lady Rey to see you without your mask, you’d best replace it. She approaches now with Count Finn in tow.”

“I must away,” Poe says loudly, certainly loudly enough for Rey to hear. “I cannot bear to hear any more barbs from her tongue. Not now.” He looks still upset, his normal tan complexion quite pale, and he walks off quickly, towards the hedge maze.

Finn stands awkwardly at the outskirts of the arbor when Ben beckons Rey over to speak to him first. The count is held in place by Temmin, who speaks to him of the nearby vineyards. Finn smiles at him politely, obviously forcing himself to stay involved in the conversation. Ben smiles at him apologetically, an expression missed in the dark, but he needs to ask Renata of what he just heard.

“Tell me, cousin, when did you decide to go to war with Signior Poe?” Ben asks.

“Four years ago,” Rey studies the contents of her wine cup dispassionately, her blood still hot from the earlier quarrel. “He told me of his love and declared his passionate feelings. Whatever he gave me, I gave back double, and allowed myself to believe him true. That was around the time you laid out your suit.” She nudges Ben who rolls his eyes fondly at the reminder of her rejection. “But, as you recall, I denied it.”

“I do recall,” Ben says, amused, nudging her back. “I thank thee for the reminder.”

“Yes, but I only said nay to your fine proposal, for I thought Poe would –“ Her eyes stare out into the night sky as if she were discerning some impossible distance, into the past. “But, he played me a deceit. I discovered him with another maiden, fairly in the throes of passion, not two weeks after he told me he loved me.” Rey folds her free hand in her skirts. “I tried to speak to him about it, but he told me that his heart was inconstant, and I could not blame him for moving on from so fleeting an affection as the one he held for me.”

“And that is about when you decided you hated him?” Ben prods.

“Would that I did hate him, Don Solo,” Rey smiles sadly and looks back at her cousin and friend. “Would that I  _ could _ . It would make easier the task of bearing to see him when he visits my uncle especially when he hates me so much. No, no, I shall content myself with this merry battle of wits neither of us is willing to back down from. And, having tasted the sweet wine of what it means to love a man, I know I shall never love again.”

“I do not think Signior Poe hates you, Rey,” Ben says, softly.

Rey sets her chin defiantly. “It does not matter. Now, I have brought Finn to you, as you have asked. Tell him of your success, and I shall bring Rose for him to speak to.”

He smiles and nods, and Rey stalks away back into the party. He watches after her for a moment, watches how Signior Poe’s eyes follow her across the courtyard (and he thinks of his next endeavor, very pleased, to himself).

“Count Finn,” he roars, gesturing him forward. “Let us celebrate.”

All but Poe fail to notice Don Ren, swooping like a great bat, upon Rey, who startles at the sight of him. 

“Lady Renata?” He offers her his arm. “I was hoping we would dance together, tonight.”

“Oh.” Rey blinks, unsure of how to respond. She looks over her shoulder to see if Don Solo watches, but he is engaged with Count Finn. “You do me a great honor, Don Ren.” She bows, and Don Ren smiles at her.

Odd, that he should look so much like his half-brother, and yet act so different. However, there is a strange handsomeness to his face that appears when he smiles, aided by the candlelight, and Rey ponders that perhaps he is not so odd-looking after all. 

“You will dance with me, then, my fair Renata?”

“I humbly beg your pardon, sir,” Rey answers nervously, her eyes flitting to where Rose awaits. “But I must fetch my cousin, as I am on an errand for the prince.” His smile slips, and she takes a step back, wary now. “If I might have your forgiveness before I proceed?”

To her great surprise, Ren takes her hand gently and brushes his lips over the air near her knuckles. “You always have it, my lady.” 

Rey stammers a thank you and nearly sprints away to Rose’s side, not sparing a glance over her shoulder at Ren.

He smirks, however, and turns to see Poe glaring at him from across the courtyard; he bows, mockingly, and offers a half-salute to the soldier before walking across the grounds, towards the main house, most of his mischief done for the night.

Don Solo is not having much luck at this moment, as he tries to get Finn to smile. However, the younger man still scowls and refuses to engage in the riddles Solo offers him. 

Eventually, he snaps. “I am happy for you,” Finn spits, his cheeks flushed and eyes hard.

“Why do you look so upset?” Ben pouts. “I have only done as you asked.”

“You have done as you wished, more like,” Finn says angrily. “You took her for yourself. I wish you well.”

“You mistake me,” Ben frowns. “Here, Finn, I have brought her for you.” Rey has returned quickly with both uncle and cousin with her. “Merely ask, and she is yours. Lord Luke has agreed to the union, and Rose herself waits for you.”

Finn turns, shocked, and Rose smiles at him hopefully.

“Is it true?” He asks, dumbfounded. “Can happiness so complete really be mine?”

“Aye,” Rose nods, eagerly. “It’s true.”

“You have not asked her anything yet,” Rey points out, rolling her eyes, but she smiles softly, her wit ever merry and kind, when not directed at anything resembling Signior Poe.

“Will you marry me, then, Lady Rose?” Finn asks, getting down on one knee.

“Yes!” Rose laughs. “Yes, a thousand times yes!”

Luke smiles at the two as they embrace, and Rey sidles up next to him to rest her chin on his shoulder and wrap her arms around her uncle’s waist. “They’ve known each other for six hours, dear uncle,” Rey whispers.

“Oh hush,” Luke pats her cheek. “It is fun to be young, pretty, and stupid. They can be those things together, now.”

“You just like weddings,” Rey accuses, kissing her uncle on the cheek. “You and the good Don Solo.”

“That we do, child,” Luke smiles at her, the gears in his mind turning much the same way his nephew’s do. “And we shall have another wedding here, ere the end of summer, I dare say.”

Rey does not know what her uncle speaks of – perhaps Iolo and Jessika are betrothed? – but she does not question it, and instead happily hums along to the song weaving through the warm, thick summer air.

Two hundred feet away, Poe grabs a flask of wine and a guitar, and walks away from the party, his mask lying abandoned on the grass.

***

Don Ren pulls Armitage aside at the end of the ball. “Is it true, then,” he sneers. “Count Finn’s offer was accepted by Lady Rose?”

“It was,” Armitage answers with a short nod. “Your plan failed, Ren, for that I am sorry.”

“No matter.” He releases his hold on Armitage’s shirt and sighs heavily. “We can find a way to interfere - I hear they shall not be married for a week.”

“That is true, sir,” Armitage allows. “And, if your Lordship will listen to a plan I have, I think we will find a way to end this holy union before it even begins.”

“Oh?”

“I believe you know I am...acquainted, with Margaret, servant to Rose?”

“Aye, I recall.” Ren rolls his eyes and starts to walk towards the estate as the revelry continues behind them. Hux follows in his footsteps like an unholy ghost. “What of it?”

“Well, you’ll agree that she is roughly the same size and shape as Lady Rose, sir?”

“I agree,” Ren answers after some thought, trying to recall what Margaret looks like. “And?”

“And, if I can...court Margaret at Rose’s window, perhaps the count can be convinced that his lady is no lady at all?”

Ren considers this for a long moment, an evil grin curling his lips after his pause. “Ah, Hux, I knew you would not be totally useless.”

Hux sneers at him. “Thank you, sir.”

***

“Are you sure this will work?” Luke hisses to Ben as they walk towards the gardens. Signior Dameron is sitting by himself at the fountain, studying the sky, and does not notice their approach.

Finn has joined them for their hunt today, and they edge along the hedges that comprise the maze in Luke’s gardens, pretending not to see Poe as he suns.

“Quite sure,” Don Solo hisses back. “You said it yourself, uncle. These two merely need a push” - he shoves outwards with his large hands - “And they shall discover the truth for themselves. We just need to put the idea in their heads, so they put their weapons down long enough to remember that they love each other.”

“So, who shall begin our sport?” Luke whispers.

Finn clears his throat as they duck into the hedge nearest Poe. “Are you sure, Master Luke, that you overheard your daughter correctly?” He says loudly, almost shouting, and Ben elbows him in the ribs, giggling.

“Aye, my son, quite sure!” Luke shouts back. They can see Poe through the hedge, who perks up at the sound of their voices and turns his head. “My daughter Rose is quite convinced that Renata will soon die, for her love of Poe Dameron!”

The three men titter like songbirds as Poe leaps to his feet, his jaw dropping. He then looks around quickly and sprints away, out of sight, as though trying to conceal himself. Nudging each other, the trio walks out to the courtyard Poe just occupied, in time to see him disappearing in the next row of hedges.

Behind the hedges, Poe grabs a ladder left out by the landscapers, and sets it against the hedge. He climbs it, the ladder shaking ominously, to get a better look at the gentlemen who now sit at the fountain with their backs to his hiding spot. 

“How fortuitous, that Renata should love Poe, and he returns to her at long last,” Ben announces, with a sweep of his hand. Poe grips the ladder tighter, and the men surreptitiously nudge each other.

“Keep going,” Finn whispers, too low to be heard by the eavesdropping gentleman. “I think this fish will bite if you bait the hook well enough.” Then, he raises his voice, still too loud, judging by the way Don Solo elbows him furiously, giggling all the while. “Yes, my darling Rose was telling me how Renata sits at her window, sighing into the night, almost every night - she cannot sleep for crying, and when she cries, she calls out for Signior Dameron! Often Rose has found her cousin writing unsent love letters into her journal, weeping missives that beg him to return to her once more!”

“Alas, that they should be so cruelly separated,” Luke laments, pretending to let his voice break. “How they loved each other in their youth! What could have happened.”

Partly obscured from sight behind them, Poe grips the ladder hard enough that his knuckles turn white.

“Well, as you recall, I asked for your niece’s hand in marriage four years ago,” Ben notes loudly, trying his hardest not to peek over his shoulder at the man spying on them. “But she outright rejected me!”

“Ah, I recall well. I remember thinking  _ why, Renata? You could have a prince! _ ” Luke giggles behind his hand, and Don Solo fights to keep his composure.

“Yes, but she had her heart set on another.” Ben sighs, looking up to the Heavens. “She told me her love for Signior Dameron meant more to her than an entire kingdom.”

Poe falls backwards off his ladder, hitting the ground with an entirely too audible  _ thump.  _ He leaps to his feet, crouching slightly, as the three men turn to look over their shoulders towards the sound. When they turn back around, he sprints quietly around the maze, to look at them from the side.

They have all the appearance of innocence when he finds his new hiding spot.

“Can this be true?” He whispers to himself as the men discuss something more quietly. “I was told that she rejected the prince - four years too late, was I made aware - but in  _ my  _ name? For  _ my  _ love? Oh, Renata, tell me this is not true. The years we’ve wasted.” He returns to peering in at the gossiping gentlemen.

“Well, it’s no matter. Signior Dameron is content to be cruel to Renata at every turn.” Luke shakes his head and strokes his beard. “How she weeps after their every bitter encounter. My daughter tells me each one of Dameron’s words cuts her like a knife.”

“If the old man says it, it is must be true,” Poe mutters, squinting. “He would not lie.”

“Perhaps if he knew that she loved him still?” Ben says thoughtfully, leaning forward and tapping his knee. “Perhaps then, he would not be so cruel?”

“Poe should never discover Rey’s love for him,” Finn declares at the top of his lungs. “He will only use it as fuel for their encounters.”

“Aye, we can agree to that.” Luke slaps Finn on the back. “Come, gentlemen, it is almost time for dinner! Let us return inside.”

The men stand and hurry from the garden, leaving a shocked Poe in their wake. Once they have cleared the maze, they start to laugh in earnest.

“Do you think he believed us?” Finn asks, chortling, under the arm of Don Solo.

“I believe he did,” Luke answers. “Now, if only Jessika and Kare will be successful in their own attempts to convince my niece. We will certainly see another wedding before long!”

They laugh more and head inside, whereupon Don Solo suggests they send Rey out to fetch Poe in for dinner. 

Outside, Poe has staggered out from his hiding spot and stands in the gardens, staring at the ground, and to the estate, and back to the ground, in amazement. 

“Can this be true?” He wonders aloud, no one near to hear him now. “Can Renata still love me?”

“I had hoped, to be sure, that one day she might…” Poe shakes his head, his fingers fidgeting against the hem of his jacket. “When I was nearly felled in battle a fortnight ago, her face was the only thing I could envision.” He staggers across the gardens, still murmuring to himself. “I thought it a vision from God, I could see her face so clearly, not torn by a sneer, but lit by a holy smile, the one I had earned and claimed in my youth, when I was a better man, before I hurt her.

“Can she truly have forgiven me?” Poe wipes a hand down his face as he collapses on the side of the nearby fountain. “After I hurt her so cruelly - if what the prince said at the ball is true, I acted the ass when we were younger. Oh, Renata.” He buries his face in his hands now, his fingers sliding to tangle in his hair. “My love, I am sorry. The other woman meant nothing to me, I only did it to forget the ache of losing you to Don Solo.”

Turning, he slaps his hand against the water, stirring up droplets that stain his pants, although it quickly dries in the afternoon sun. “Forgive me, Renata,” he mumbles. “Forgive me? I can’t believe what I hear, that you still love me, four years later. I would have asked you to marry me the moment we arrived from battle, if I were not so afraid of your answer.”

Joy and humor return to him, and he laughs to himself, leaning back to recline on the marble. “But now, maybe I am not so afraid, when I hear that you still love me. Sweet Renata, I knew your heart to be stronger than mine, truer than mine. You love me, and it  _ must  _ be requited. Too long have I denied myself your company in the sweetest sense, contenting myself with the cruel words we exchanged - but what were they in the war but paper bullets? My pride not wounded so badly as your heart, but now, if I have a chance to mend what I broke…” He sighs, and then turns his head to look at the estate.

Poe gasps and sits upright, almost bounding to his feet - Rey approaches, sweeping across the grass, her white linen dress quite fetching against her tan, freckled skin. “My lady comes,” he whispers to himself, wiping his hands nervously against his sides for fear that they might be sweaty. “She comes this very  _ moment,  _ and ah! How could I have denied her beauty for so long?”

Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes flashing, and Poe sighs to himself. “I think I spy some marks of love in her, after all,” he muses, crossing his legs and leaning back, so to give his own figure the best advantage. 

Rey comes to a halt fifteen feet away from him, and Poe aches for her - does she stay away even now for fear of his renewed rejection? He wishes to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. 

“I’ve been sent to bring you in for dinner,” Rey snaps, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “If you don’t mind.”

“Mind? Of course not.” Poe rests his elbows on his knees and smiles up at her. “I thank you for your pains in coming out here just to inform me of our meal, Lady Renata.”

Rey studies him, squinting, her tongue between her teeth. Then, she blinks, and her confusion disappears. “Well, I’m not in pain, so spare yourself the thanks, Signior.”

“I thank you all the same, and I rejoice that you were not in pain, to bid me come to dinner,” Poe says earnestly.

Again, Rey studies him as though waiting for the joke, and finds herself confused by the way his face turns up to smile at her dreamily. “Have you been sitting too long in the sun, Signior?” She asks, and Poe shakes his head, a full smile stretching across his face at her perceived concern. “Well. My duty is done. Come in to dinner. Or don’t.” She throws her hands in the air with a roll of her eyes and turns around. “I fulfilled my task either way.”

“And I thank thee!” Poe reminds her with a shout as she storms back inside. He flops down against the marble once more, sighing to himself as he traces a pattern against the water. “Pains,” he chuckles. “She took no pain in coming to fetch me for dinner.”

He flips so he lies on his stomach, and kicks his feet in the air, still sighing peacefully. “She wants me to come in to dinner,” he says slowly, warmth still spreading down his spine from the words he overheard. Then, he gasps and jumps to his feet, almost falling on his face in the process. “My lady Renata requires my presence at dinner! I must away!”

Poe sprints up to the estate, aiming for a different door than Renata, wondering if he can change and comb his hair before he makes an appearance at dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
>  
> 
> ~the plot thickens~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Expect the next "act" soon!


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